


We'll always have Paris

by Paratti



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paratti/pseuds/Paratti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers: ATS 5.12<br/>Disclaimer: Belongs to Joss, Fox, etc, none of whom were worthy of Cordelia Chase. Shamelessly sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll always have Paris

Irish eyes really can smile through tears. "Ready, princess?"

She doesn't get how she can cry and smile when she left her own body in that bed and her borrowed form has just time-expired. "Not so much... It was never going to be long enough, was it?"

Angel's holding the phone like his world's gone cold. Hers has shrunk to the man that loved her - died for her and Angel - brushing an errant curl back into place, as the manpire she loves fades away with the room.

Doyle's quiet, watching Angel as intently as she is, as life and colour turns to grey. "Up to me, darlin', you'd have blue hair, a tribe o' black-haired great-grandkids fussin' after your every whim -"

She can feel Doyle's hand hold hers as her world ends. "Would have been nice... but, so would lots of things... things it was never the right time for -" She'd dissolve into a flood of tears, but she's not a snivelling Cry-Buffy and she's not starting even now, despite all she's just said goodbye to. "And I'd so not be seen dead with blue hair. Guess I'm kinda proving a point here."

"And beautiful hair it is to. I always thought so."

She'd smile, but it's hard to manage the patent Cordelia Chase thousand watt light up the room when you've given up everything you ever had or could have had. Besides, she's still in telling-them-before-its-too-late mode. "I know... And, you know, in case this is so they say, 'it', and this is my last chance to tell you... if we'd had longer, I could have, maybe. Learned to love that face." She wants to cry at the memory of losing him, but she's Cordelia Chase and Cordelia Chase doesn't do that. "I mean, the jacket would so have to had to go, and we were talking a major fixer-upper situation, and you'd have thought I'd have learned my lesson on that one, but, clearly, not so much. And there are Hiding Things Issues, mister!"

"I'm sorry, princess. And the Visions, I never meant that to happen, you know that, right?" Truth's evident in his eyes.

"I know." But there are things she doesn't know and which she's terrified of. "This is the whole get-It-all-said-before-it's-too-late part of the conversation isn't it? Now comes the whole firey pits and damnation for all eternity over what that thing did with my body thing, and can I say, noses are going to get punched over that one!"

"God, no, Cordy! You thought I'm here to take you to Hell? No way!"

"No?" She'd bet her old convertible that he's telling the truth, but she's seen too much not to fear being played again, if not by Doyle, but by something.

"You've been listening to old Mr Broody and Clinically Depressed too much."

"Even though I'm part demon, and the whole blood-on-my-hands thing?" She wants to believe him, god, she wants to believe again.

He's holding both of her hands now and looking deep into her eyes. "Demon part was Jasmine, princess. She's gone, and anyway, Angel's wrong. Him and Spike, me, Lorne, you - what with the whole Vision-Bearer thing -"

"You get the Lord of the Rings, up here? Or wherever here is that we're going to. And I so can't believe I just outed myself on that one." Being able to breathe again - even if it somehow no longer seems to be necessary - has to be the explanation for that one.

"Films, music, all the latest, its not so bad. I mean, it's not where good little Slayers go, but who wants to live inside a marshmallow? Where's the craic in that?"

"No drugs!"

"All the good stuff, Cordy, conversation, fun, and none of the bad. But I can see I'm going to have to be refreshing you on your Irish."

"It's been a while... but No Angela's Ashes! You get maudlin and all mixed up with The Flintstones!"

"And it's a mighty fine Betty you make too." He's smiling at her and she can't help smiling back.

"So, not Hell?" She can't help the small voice. "Only they wouldn't tell me when I made the deal. One chance to see them all, make things right. A 'we'll always have Paris' thing, even if I had to get on the plane, and I so can't believe I'm talking Casablanca when I got Wolfram and Hart!" She can see that he knows how strange that was, it all was, and how very hard. "I had to go into it with trust, and can I say, so Not Easy!"

"Not Hell, a bit like New Orleans. There's this great bar! I can't wait to show you."

"Great, drunken frat boys!"

"Crossed with Paris."

"With the shopping?"

"Think so, not something I really checked out. There was this great bar -"

"I'm not going to a bar in this shirt. Lead on to the Chanel, McDuff!"

"Just close your eyes, princess."

"They'll all be ok?"

"You did a fine job, Cordy. Time for us to go."

"Ok, I trust you, but one thing first. Can we pick up Dennis? I hate to think of him left all alone."

"Course we can."

"You're so not going to make me click my heels together three times, are you, 'cause these - so not the right shoes."

"Just close your eyes, and when you open them, we'll all be there."


End file.
